𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 → 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬 (𝐢)

sixty-three [t]

saturday,
september 8th, 2018

TRINITY HAYSON

Last night when Shawn and I got back to my place, we showered together and I cleaned up his lip and cheek. He stayed the night, refusing to take his hands off me throughout the entire time we laid in bed together, snuggled closely. I know he's still down about it, and I know he thinks it's partly his fault, but I've reassured him multiple times that it isn't. Which it's not. How on earth could he be blamed for this?

I wake up with a severe headache and sore limbs. The other side of my bed is empty and I realise that Shawn has basketball practice today. Beside me on the table are some migraine tablets and a bottle of water. I weakly smile at his kind gesture and gulp down the pills after carefully sitting up in bed. I revel in the scent of Shawn's hoodie he left here recently which hangs on my body, down to my naked thighs.

I slip on some knee high socks after my headache has calmed a little, tie my frizzy hair into a bun and exit my bedroom. I'm startled by a noise in the kitchen, but relax instantaneously when I see Shawn hovering at the stove. His back is toned and exposed, a pair of grey sweats tied loosely on his hips. I bite my lip at his out-of-this-world attractiveness, crossing the wooden floor to hug his waist. He hums, acknowledging my presence.

I press three warm kisses to his back, "I thought you had basketball practice today."

"I did, but I called up Christian and told him I'm sick," he says with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, "I'm spending today with my girl."

"Shawn," I sigh, unraveling my arms from his wonderful body and heaving myself up on to the counter to watch him cook. "You didn't have to do that. I'm perfectly fine."

Shawn breathes heavily through his nose, turning to face me. His eyes momentarily widen as he intakes my outfit and he smirks hazily at me. He stands between my thighs, grabbing them and lifting my legs around his hips. He presses a featherlight kiss to my jawline and nudges his nose against mine before kissing me gently. I hum, my arms comfortably slinging around his neck as we slowly make out. He'd occasionally wince at the pressure on his bust lip, but he doesn't want to stop. Frankly, neither do I, so we take it gently.

Shawn eyes the French toast before flipping it, returning to between my thighs afterwards, "I know I didn't have to do that. I know you're perfectly fine. I also know that I'm insanely in love with you and you mean more to me than anything in the world. I want to stay here all day with you, fulfil your wants and needs — whatever they may be — and take a long, relaxing bubble bath with you while we kiss a lot and drink wine. Now tell me, Trinity, is that not what you want?"

My heart rate immediately speeds up and my stomach performs all kinds of delightful tumbles at his sweet words. I bite down on my lip, holding his face in my hands carefully before kissing the corner of his mouth. I run a hand across his shoulder and to his bicep, where I tug his arm to wrap it around my body.

"That's all I've ever wanted," I tease, gazing up at him in complete awe and amazement before kissing along his jaw. The muscle tenses underneath my touch and his hand that wasn't around my waist squeezes my exposed thigh.

"You look incredible, darling. So beautiful. You're feeling okay?" Shawn returns to tending to the French toast and I cross my legs over one another.

"I'm okay," I tell him honestly, a soft tone to my voice.

It's true. I am okay. I think more than anything, it was just a frightening moment and my alcohol peaked state dramatised it even more to the point I panicked badly. I'm fine now though, I know I'm safe here with my loving boyfriend and I couldn't ask for more than a day with him. Just us two. (Even though we've had a few of those already since he came back to LA, but that's irrelevant.)